"Are you in communication with Guy Fenwick? Do you know whether he is now at Fenwick Hall?" asked the detective.

"No, he is not there."

"Where is he, then?"

"At sea. In a day or two he will probably be in New York," answered Jane Gilman coolly.

Mr. Peake started. This was unexpected intelligence.

"What brings him to New York?" he inquired hastily.

"I do."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I wrote him some time since for a hundred pounds. He sent me five pounds and told me that I needn't call on him again."

"He doesn't seem much afraid of you."

"No; he thought the boy was dead."

"I suppose you told him so?"

"I let him think that the boy had died of fever four years ago. That made him feel safe, and he concluded that he had no more use for Jane Gilman. He'll find out!" and Jane tossed her head, in an independent manner.

"Have you any letters from him in reference to the matter?" asked Detective Peake.

From a pocket of unknown depth Miss Gilman drew out an epistle which she handed to the detective.

"You can read it if you want to," she said.

Mr. Peake opened the letter and read it. It ran thus:

Miss Jane Gilman:

Your letter requesting me to send you a hundred pounds is received. Your request is certainly an audacious one. Why I should send you a hundred pounds, or even ten pounds, I am at a loss to imagine. The boy Robert, whose existence you think would be dangerous to me, is dead by your own admission, and my right to the Fenwick title and estates is undisputed and indisputable. If you expect me to support you for the balance of your life, your expectations are doomed to disappointment. You are strong and healthy, and are able to earn your own living in the sphere in which you were born. Besides, if you had been prudent you would have saved a considerable sum out of the large pension you have received from me during the last dozen or more years. I think it quite probable that you have a snug sum invested and are not in any danger of suffering.

Still I don't want to be hard upon you. I accordingly inclose a five-pound note, which you will please consider as a final gift on my part.

Guy Fenwick.

"Miss Gilman," said Detective Peake, "will you permit me to keep this letter—for the present?"

"What do you want to do with it?" asked Jane suspiciously.

"Use it against the man who calls himself Sir Guy Fenwick. In connection with your testimony it will prove valuable evidence."

"You have promised that I shall be well paid?"

"Yes, I can take it upon myself to promise that."

"Very well. You may keep the letter."

"One question more. You tell me that Sir Guy Fenwick is on his way to New York. Can you tell me why he is coming?"

"Yes. I dropped him a hint, in answer to this letter, that the boy Robert was still living, and this alarmed my gentleman," she added with a laugh.

"Did he write you that he was coming?"

"Yes."

"Have you that letter?"

"No; but I can tell you what was in it. He wrote that he did not believe my story, but he would come to New York, and I might call upon him at the Brevoort House on Monday next."

"You infer from that that he was anxious?"

"It looks like it, doesn't it?"

"Yes. What did you propose to say to him?"

"That the boy was living, and that I could lay my hand upon him."

"That is why you came to Scranton?"

"Yes."

"I see. The whole thing lies in a nutshell. Even without your evidence I shall probably be able to establish the rights of my young client. But your help will make it surer."

"I am at your service, if you will keep your promise. What do you want me to do?"

"Go with me to Bar Harbor and see the boy."

"I would like to," said Jane Gilman with an expression of pleasure. "I haven't seen him since he was a baby. I'd like to see how he looks now."

"When he is restored to his title and estate he will not see you suffer."

"When will you start for Bar Harbor?"

"We shall leave Scranton by the next train."